Demons
by stephaniew
Summary: Sophia wakes to find Dean missing from their bed...again. She knows the inner demons that haunt him, and she's determined not to lose him to the darkness. 1st person POV. See companion piece "Touch" by MaliBearsBuddy.


**A/N: ** My very good friend **MaliBearsBuddy** came up with this interesting challenge. We each write the same scene, in first person, from two different characters points of view. Since I've never tried first person before, I was intrigued and this was the result. Read her piece, **Touch**, for Dean's side of this same moment! Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural_.

Demons

I'm awakened by a clap of thunder. It's late...or early, depending on your point of view. I can hear the rain pounding against the old tin roof. Normally I find it comforting, but tonight something's missing. I sigh softly. Dean's up again. Probably the third time this week, if I'm counting.

In a flash of lightening, I see him. Same place he always is when this happens. Staring out the window as if he could find all the answers to all the questions of the universe if he just looks long enough. He never clearly explains what drives him from our bed in the middle night. But I could make an educated guess.

While Dean's had a lot of demons on his ass in his lifetime, the inner demons are the worst. The most persistent. His asshat of a father still rides him, even from beyond the grave. He idolized his dad, still does in a way. But he's also afraid it's his destiny to become his father. I try my damnedest to pull him back from that ledge, but it's like he can't help peering into the abyss.

I slip from the bed, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "Come back to bed." My lips find the smooth skin of his shoulder of their own accord.

"I will in a minute," he replies.

"Dean," I chide, pressing closer. Damn it. He's already deep in whatever's clawing at him tonight. I'm going to have work a lot harder to get him back.

I slide in front of him, but he closes his eyes, effectively shutting me out. My hand reaches to caress his cheek and he drops his head to rest on mine. "You okay?" I ask, already knowing the answer, wondering if he'll tell me or try to deflect.

"Yeah, " he says, kissing my forehead and pulling me into his chest. "I'm fine."

Deflection it is. I hate it when he does that. Haven't we been through this enough? Doesn't he know yet he can trust me? Doesn't he understand he doesn't need to protect either of us from what he's feeling?

"Don't bullshit me, Dean," I say sharply, pulling away with a glare. Softening my tone, I continue. "You wanna talk about it?"

I feel his thumb brush the tattoo on my hip. It matches the one on his shoulder. My lips brush over it, reinforcing our connection. Reminding him of what we are. Whether he likes it or not, we're one now. Tied in a way neither of us can escape, though God knows we've tried. It took some time, but we finally realized running away was the last thing we should be doing. Simply put, we're better together. Stronger together in ways we just can't be on our own.

"I just..." His voice trails off.

I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get any more from him tonight. So I fall back on what always works, what he can't seem to resist. My hands slip into the back pockets of his jeans as I brush my lips against his. And while we're normally as horny as teenagers, there's nothing sexual about this. It's about being close, being in contact with another warm body. It's about reminding him I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. Giving him a reason to come back to the light. To come back to me.

I pull my hands free, sliding them up his back. When they reach the back of his neck, he shudders. I know his surrender just before he does. His arms tighten around me and I know he's back. I snuggle in, more than content to hold him. To be held by him.

When we first met, he didn't seem to know what to do when I'd touch him outside the bedroom. Of course, that's not really a surprise. I highly doubt John Winchester was a touchy-feely kinda dad. He had his own demons to face, inner and otherwise. Making sure his kids felt loved doesn't appear to have been on his priority list. And while I can certainly understand the consuming need for revenge (been there, done that), it still makes my blood boil to think about how Dean and Sam grew up.

So I've made it my mission to give them everything they never had. To show them all the pleasure there is family instead of just so much pain and angst. A kiss on the cheek or an easy hug can convey so much. They seemed almost surprised at first, maybe a little uncomfortable, but once they came around, it was like they were addicted. Couldn't get enough. Making up for lost time, I suppose. Sometimes I still think Dean challenges himself to hold back, to deny himself. But in the end, he always gives in.

I take his hand, pulling him back to the bed. I'm always relieved when he comes back to me. Some part of me is afraid he won't one day. Afraid maybe I won't be enough, _we_ won't be enough. I keep that part tucked far away, though. If he even for a moment thought I doubted... I don't even want to think about it.

I watch silently as he strips off his jeans and settles next to me. His lingering unease calls to me. I snuggle up to him, hands roaming, smoothing, soothing. I won't be able to rest again until he does. Our connection vibrates gently between us, drawing us together. I don't know what I'd do without it. Without him. Again, I push the thought away. Tonight needs to be about him. About giving him peace. Reminding him of the strength and comfort we can find in each other's arms.

"I love you," I breathe against his ear. I feel him relax against me and I smile.

Score one more for me, one less for the demons...


End file.
